Dee flushed. Unable to meet her daughter’s glare, she glanced uncomfortably at her own ballet flats and shifted her weight from one foot to another. ‘It's not as if I go looking for dead bodies, darling.’ She shrugged her narrow shoulders. ‘They just sort of find me.’

Mrs May coolly observed Dee. She was wearing her habitual nylon attire, one of those shapeless dresses that double as an overall and were so popular in the seventies. As usual, her thin lips were tight, but Dee noticed they had a satisfied twist to them.

He could squash anyone who came against him as easily and happily as he had that ladybird. Life was certainly good. Now he was the one with power; a far cry from his dismal childhood in that care home.

‘I told you – he definitely wasn’t a clown.’ She swallowed and looked as if she was fighting to hold back tears. ‘He was actually extremely rude about me being a clown. He was rather cruel about it. I met him professionally, but there was nothing very professional about him.’

Ken snorted, but his eyes remained transfixed on where Julia, otherwise known as Blossom, and Amelia still seemed to be negotiating Amelia’s departure. ‘Hardly! She wastes her time on children’s parties, rather than truly exploring her art – her calling. I mean, what sort of name is Blossom Bim Bam?’

I shouldn’t have done it! After all, I had no solid proof that Bernier had been involved beyond introducing Mum to Justin but when I confronted him he was so … so cocky. He thought it all a tremendous joke … I don’t know what came over me.